Peace of Mind
by Sachita
Summary: Why is Major Hobbie Klivian of Rogue Squadron always so pessimistic? A return to his home planet of Ralltiir forces him to face his past.  "Oh kriff," Hobbie sighed, "I think I am definitely doomed."  Set after X-wing: SoA, appearances by the Fab Four.
1. Prologue

_Hi everyone! This is a story about Hobbie Klivian of Rogue Squadron and how he became who he is. He is the least-known Rogue, the one who always stays in the background, the one who offers pessimistic comments, yet little about himself. _

_However, certain events force him to face his past again, and as Hobbie would say, he is definitely doomed._

_Please leave a review :) They make my day. I am also happy about constructive criticism, so don't hesitate to let me know what I could do better._

_ The next installment will be up shortly._

_Oh by the way, I apologise for wonky grammar and the like. English isn't my native language and although I try my best, certain mistakes just get past me. If you find any, please let me know :)_

_But now I have rambled enough, so, enjoy! -Sachita_

_**Disclaimer:** Star Wars only belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd. _

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**Peace of Mind**

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**Prologue**

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_The meadow was lush and green, dotted all over with flowers in different colors and the sun was shining brightly- the perfect summer day as defined by children's data cards._

_The woman who turned around to him was beautiful- her warm, caring smile was enhanced by her sparkling blue eyes and the sun's rays caressed her dark hair. Few freckles adorned her tanned face, yet he could recall her complaining about them sometimes playfully. She laughed, came closer and picked him up, swinging him through the sunlit air and he let her whirl him around, stretching his small arms out: "I can fly! Mommy, I can fly!"_

_It was indeed his Mother and although she had died so long ago, he knew it instantly-knew the warm rich scent that was uniquely hers, knew her wide smile only reserved for him and he also knew beyond a doubt that he was dreaming. But he did not want to wake up._

_Suddenly, as if she had heard that last thought storm clouds amassed over their heads and her expression darkened with fear. She turned away from him, gazing at the dark sky. The first squalls of the upcoming storm tore at her hair and sent the dark strands flying._

_Something tugged at him, tugging him away from her-_

"_Mommy! Mother!"  
She did not turn around. His screams echoed in the distance, yet she did not turn around. The tug got stronger and he resisted- just one last glimpse of her smile… __**please!- **__"Mother!" –but to no avail. His Mother was gone and he was too—lost in an all-consuming darkness-_

_-and suddenly he was in the middle of a nasty furball, on some mission after Endor. He knew he was still dreaming, dreaming of a memory more, but he could not wake up._

_TIEs- eyeballs- and TIE-Interceptors- squints, as Alliance pilots liked to call them- roared past him, green laser fire peppering his shields and frying some of his electronic systems. A Stardestroyer, a SD, loomed up right in front of him._

_He quickly took the controls, feeling battle adrenaline course through his veins and turn his thoughts as clear as if he had just dunked his head into ice cold water, then veered sharply to the right, avoiding the SD and racing along its hull, careful not to come into the range of its deadly turrets._

_An eyeball was on his wingmate's tail and he joined the chase, biting into the eyeball's tail. The eyeball tried to evade him but he followed easily in the tight loop, and then targeted the TIE with red lasers. It exploded in a red fireball._

"_Thanks, Four."_

"_My pleasure, Three," he replied with a cold smile. Sometimes he scared himself when he was like that- frigid and battle-hungry, but the thought was fleeting- he had to concentrate._

"_All Rogues, concentrate your fire on the SD's aft shield. Sensor data indicates that it is severely weakened. Wingmates, get ready for cover fire. Alliance Cruiser is ready to assist."_

_He obeyed, making a strafing run at the target then concentrated on covering Wes while his wingmate did the same. They broke away again to lay their fire on incoming TIEs desperate to protect the SD as more and more Rogues targeted the shield. The SD was finished and then the Cruiser moved in for the kill._

_Explosions started all over the Stardestroyer and he stared at it- in between the flames was suddenly a face he knew all too well- although it couldn't be- his Mother was standing there, screaming for help…and he was powerless. _

"_Mother!" he screamed and yet again she slipped through his fingers and he was unable to save her-_

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Panting as if he had just run for miles, Major Derek "Hobbie" Klivian jerked awake with a gasp, nearly overbalancing and falling over as he found himself in an awkward position, crouched on his carpet and half-leaning against the door frame behind him. His Mother hadn't really been on that Star Destroyer. He allowed himself to breathe again. Bewildered for a moment, he eventually shook his head with a bitter smile as the events of the last hours came back to him. Events that also explained how he had ended up falling asleep on the coarse beige material of the carpet...

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tbc


	2. Chapter 1

_Hi chupacabra! Thank you for your review- hope you like this update, too. Everyone else who has put this story on their alert list, thank you! And you know, I wouldn't mind to hear your thoughts on this. I'd love to hear them, in fact :) _

_Have a nice day,_

_Sachita_

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**Chapter 1**

_Panting as if he had just run for miles, Major Derek "Hobbie" Klivian jerked awake with a gasp, nearly overbalancing and falling over as he found himself in an awkward position, crouched on his carpet and half-leaning against the door frame behind him. His Mother hadn't really been on that Star Destroyer. He allowed himself to breathe again. Bewildered for a moment, he eventually shook his head with a bitter smile as the events of the last hours came back to him. Events that also explained how he had ended up falling asleep on the coarse beige material of the carpet._

**Coruscant, Some hours earlier…**

She had left her coat lying in a brown puddle on the floor of his apartment. He stared at it for a long while, not really seeing it, then slowly picked it up to put it across the back of the chair standing at the window.

Maybe she would want it back- he fingered briefly at his comlink, but thought better of it. No. She wouldn't want to see him anyway- and to be perfectly honest, he didn't want to see her ever again either. He had some pride to hang on to after all.

Maybe he could ask Wes to drop it off at her place or something.

Eventually he scrubbed his hands through his sandy brown hair exhaustedly, rubbed his eyes and got up. Tiredness had made him bleary-eyed and slow and so he shuffled across the room to the window, putting his hands against the smooth transparisteel pane. Oh kriff, he thought and rested his weary head against the cool material.

Another relationship kriffed up beyond help.

The lights of Coruscant's many skyscrapers shimmered across the field of his vision as he finally lifted his head to gaze at the galaxy's center's deceiving beauty. Rows after rows of speeder traffic passed; when he looked close enough he could make out the speeders' unique shapes and designs. For all sounds and purposes, Coruscant looked like a gem of beauty and sound, though he knew that it was all but a gem. In the lower levels, criminals had taken control of many sectors of the city and the police was completely helpless in face of them. He vividly recalled a police officer's admission to him one day he had been curious enough to ask. The man had been smaller than him, a gnarly-built Lorrdian barely reaching to his shoulder. Hobbie himself was no giant either, but he still had to lean down to understand the officer.

"We have a deal with some of them," the Lorrdian had said in a hushed tone, spittle flying everywhere, while Hobbie had recoiled in disgust. "They hand us some of the people in their organization over who have become unpopular - and there is a lot of them, believe me. In turn we leave them alone." He had been incredulous. "And so you still got your statistics right," he had said and the disgust must have been a little too audible in his voice for the Lorrdian had been offended:

"Well excuse me, Sir, but that is how the galaxy works. I believe I have replied to your question more than sufficiently- really I would have thought someone from the military would understand." Him being from the military had been the only reason why he hadn't been fed the sugar-coated lies they told others "we are working on the problem", that he had known even back then, but really- understand?

Oh, what he had understood and he did so now, too- the galaxy was a manure heap, full of deceit, lies and betrayal. Why should the police be different?

He chanced a look at his chrono- not yet night. Wes would undoubtedly give him a call later- or maybe not undoubtedly. It was always better to leave it at the "maybe" in that case at the moment- or rather since Wes had started seeing Inyri- "for real" as he had put it. He tended to forget calling Hobbie sometimes now. "What, Hobbs?" he had asked at Hobbie's incredulous stare after he had announced his intention to start a serious relationship with Inyri. "I am heading towards forty in great steps- might as well start settling down, right?"  
Hobbie shook his head to dispel the memory of Wes's insistent voice.

He had rarely seen such a serious expression on his friend's face before. And Sith, he was happy for Wes and Inyri- they had been dancing around the issue for years.

But…oh kriff. There he went again. Briefly, Syal Antilles's young face flashed through his mind- Wes and himself had been out on a stroll earlier today through one of Coruscant's parks along with the Celchus and the Antilles family.

Iella, who had accompanied Wedge, had pushed the stroller with little Syal in it along with a smile- it was an old-fashioned stroller, but Wedge had fondly explained that as a child he had apparently had a similar one which had made Wes and Hobbie grin at the thought of a Miniature General Wedge Antilles. And then- and Hobbie's chest ached for some inexplicable reason at the memory- Wedge had lifted Syal out of the stroller, just as Coruscant's sun had managed to break through the artificially-generated clouds and a sun beam had enveloped the park in a warm light. The weather had been bad for many weeks at that point and thus a lot of people had closed their eyes, turning their heads upwards to the sun.

Wes and Tycho had followed their example, closing their eyes and smiling contentedly while Hobbie had been frozen to the spot, staring at the Antilles' family. He could close his eyes and envision it all in perfect detail- Syal's chubby baby face lit up in a happy smile, while Wedge's face mirrored his daughter's. Iella had been standing off to the side, her golden hair bright in the sudden sun glare, laughing joyously at the sight of her husband lifting their daughter high up in the air. Syal had been squealing with glee at the sudden altitude change and Wes had said somewhere behind him:

"She seems to like the sky- already following in Daddy's footsteps, ain't she?"

But Hobbie hadn't been able to answer. He had stared transfixed at the scene; feeling absurdly almost like a voyeur as he hungrily absorbed the joy on the faces of the little family. His eyes had started to burn from the effort of staring at the scene without blinking, but he had neither been able to stop looking nor to turn away.

It had been Wedge himself who had finally asked, noticing Hobbie's strange stare: "Hobbie, are you alright?" Hobbie had given himself a firm shake- what had he been thinking- and had pasted a thin smile on his face, one of the kind that he had known wouldn't look too much out of place on his normally dour face. "Sure," he had said. "I just remembered- I got plans and I am awfully sorry to leave so early, but I can't afford to be late." That hadn't even been a lie. He had had plans- until ten minutes ago.

"Of course," Wedge had said with a polite, yet a little confused smile. "Good luck," the perceptive Tycho had added. And Wes, ever helpful: "Go get the girl, man."

Yeah. Get the girl. That was exactly what he had been trying to do. Fianna Rencu, a smart and talented lawyer, with smoldering onyx eyes and a wonderful laugh. The kind of girl for him- that was at least what he had thought. And today, today should have been the day when he would have told her so- except that she had had other plans. It hurt to think of it- but that was another scene that was firmly engraved in his mind. When he had entered his apartment, he had only been able to see Fianna's sleek black ponytail and the slim line of her back as she had bent down to close a suitcase lying on the bed. Her elegant long coat had been draped over it haphazardly. All thoughts of asking her for a permanent relationship had flown out of the window in that moment. Hobbie had gulped heavily, before finding his voice.

"You are leaving?" he had asked in a painfully hoarse voice.

Fianna had whirled around to him, her pretty face surprised for a moment, then completely emotionless. She had measured him up with her dark eyes. "Yes."

"But –" and he had hated to sound like a broken holo movie recorder, not like a Major of Rogue Squadron, a kriffing officer of the New Republic for Sith's sakes, "but- -but why?"

Fianna's look had been clearly pitying. "I got what I wanted from you," she said clearly. "Your connections and contacts. The contacts of a Major in the New Republic- they help my career a lot. It's not easy being a young, female lawyer on Coruscant, you know. But now that you have helped me, there are no reasons to hang around any longer, are there?"

Hobbie had only been able to stare at her mutely. The past year- ever since he had got to know here intimately- that had all been a way to better her career prospects? The concept was very hard to grasp.

"Oh now don't look at me that way, Hobbie." Fianna had come forward, smoothing a lock of hair out of his face. He had been too frozen to push her hand away and the worst thing about the gesture was that it still seemed nearly loving. "You didn't seriously think that I, as ten years your junior and as a lawyer on her way to the grand credits could be seriously interested in you?" He still hadn't been able to move an inch. Yes, he had thought so. Yes, he had thought that she might be seriously interested in him.

"The problem is," Fianna continued thoughtfully, "if circumstances were different, Hobbie, I could grow to love you. But they are not different and I am who I am and as such I can't afford to have a relationship standing between me and success." She had come forward, putting her well-shaped red lips close to his ear: "You are just too kriffing optimistic, Hobbie Klivian."

And then she had left. Just like that. Kriff half a year of a relationship, which had had- at least to Hobbie- depth and meaning. One thing she had determined quite well though- he was too kriffing optimistic. People called him a pessimist, yet they never saw how wrong they were. He was the biggest kriffing optimist of the universe- because, seriously, someone who saw the galaxy in all its bleak realistic colours and still hadn't given up- well he was either a fool or a kriffing optimist. And Hobbie Klivian was the latter. He wondered why no-one ever recognized it. He, Derek "Hobbie" Klivian was the galaxy's biggest kriffing optimist, because someone like him who was also its biggest pessimist could only keep on living if he could counteract that pessimism with something just as potent. Did that even make sense? He wasn't so sure, which in turn of course raised the question of whether he even made sense. A hysterical laugh bubbled over his lips and he sank against the doorframe down to the ground.

The problem, he realized in dismay sometime later, having recognized that the carpet patterns couldn't keep him entertained for too long, was him. His slight- but oh, it was there- resentment for Wes's happiness, the one who he had figured would keep him company for forever, his envy of Wedge- and oh kriff, how had he wished to be in his Commander's place for that scene in the sun, just for once, soaking up all the happiness that a family provided- and his jealousy of Tycho's solid relationship with Winter. So he had figured that while he didn't have the perfect love Tycho shared with his wife, the passion between Inyri and Wes, nor the fierce loyalty of Wedge and Iella- he had at least Fianna.

But while he would have been the first to admit that it could be better and they had their faults, he would have also have been the first to say that it was maybe as close to happily ever after he could ever come, disputing his fear of being left alone again. Of course this wasn't the first time he had felt that way, but these days, with his friends all happily married or at least starting to settle down- he had thought that this might be it.

He wasn't the youngest anymore. Not too old, no, but old enough to finally start yearning for Sunday mornings spent together in bed, just lazing around and loving each other; then some years later, maybe, wild games of playing tag with bright-eyed beautiful children in a park- and in the evenings, a glass of Corellian Ale, luminous against the radiant Coruscant sunset.

He closed his eyes and willed the burning to go away. Well- as they say – "not all plans work out for the best"- right? He leaned back against the doorframe and screwed his eyes shut against the sad face of his Mother swirling around in front of his inner eye, intersected with random flashes of his friends- Wedge, happy with his family in the sun; Wes calling to apologize for his silence as he had forgotten the time as he always did when with Inyri- "No problem at all," he'd said, yet it was a problem and he hated himself for being that way; Tycho, face cold during a dressing down one particular bad day: "That was one reckless stunt, Major"- and always always Fianna as she said:  
"If circumstances were different…I could grow to love you."

And it was so easy just to add "But I don't love you."

Deep down he knew that he was being unfair- to his Mother, to his friends, maybe even to Fianna when he only clung to the bad memories. They had had other times too, yet he couldn't recall any of them at the moment- and he knew that he was kriffed up. He held his head between his hands and willed it all to go away…

**Coruscant, Present**

Hobbie shook his head against the onslaught of memories and pushed himself to his feet.  
Kriff it. He needed a drink.

One drink turned out to be a long night and one drink too many and Hobbie groaned as bright sunlight disturbed his drop-down-dead sleep, irritating his already aching head and forcing his sore eyes open. He focused painfully on his surroundings, surprised to find himself lying on the carpet of his apartment. He knew those patterns, having catalogued them in detail only yesterday.

He dragged himself painfully to his knees, surprised to feel something distinctly flimsy-like under his bare left foot. As it turned out, it was a flimsy and it read "You are good company, flyboy. Contact me again if you want to. –Miri"

Hobbie groaned and dropped his head to his hands. What the kriff had he been doing last night? He remembered only flashes of alcohol-soaked moments spent in the arms of a black-haired woman with too much make-up. A sudden pang of realization made him take a look under his bed. As it turned out he had been right. The bag with credit chips he kept there was gone, probably taken by that Miri person. He hoped it was the truth because otherwise it would mean there had been a third someone in his apartment.

There hadn't been too many credit chips in that bag, it was a loss that he could afford, but still it showed that he- it meant that he- Oh Kriff. And again he was at the same point like the evening before, but even the thought of a well-distilled Whyren's Reserve made him feel like his skin was crawling all over right now. He felt feverish and weak, the bad taste in his mouth and the dull ache of his head intensifying rapidly.

How on Coruscant had he gotten the nerf-herder-like idea to get as drunk as a Tatooinean trader anyway ?

And when exactly had he decided that sleeping on the floor was good for him?

"Why exactly did you sleep on the floor?"

After wondering whether Wes had become a disembodied voice in his head for about two seconds- (oh Sith please no!) – he got up and turned around so quickly that the room started to spin gently around him and that he nearly bumped into the aforementioned. The apartment door just sliding shut behind him gave a clue as to how he had got here- the apartment door was programmed to recognize him any time after all, just like Hobbie was able to enter Wes's apartment that he shared with Inyri anytime.

Wes looked freshly-showered and completely awake, dressed in casual clothes and wearing a strange look on his face, one that Hobbie was reluctant to identify as concern. Wes was a master at hiding his emotions and showing the world only his joker-façade, but right now the look of concern was blatantly obvious, telling Hobbie exactly how bad he must look.

"That horrible, huh?" he joked weakly, but Wes shook his head: "Hobbs…"

"Spare me the lecture, please," Hobbie said sharply and turned on his heel, walking over to the window and sparing the unmade bed only a cursory glance. His stomach was rebelling.

Wes joined him at the window. From the sideways glance that he threw him, Hobbie could see that he was getting angry. Green eyes piercing, Wes turned to look at him, yet Hobbie refused to acknowledge him.

"You are not getting off that easy, Klivian," he finally growled. "I've watched this long enough. And put some kriffing clothes on, you'll catch a cold."

Hobbie crossed his arms in front of his bare chest, ignoring the goose bumps all over his body as he stood there in only his boxers. He gave Wes a flat dark-eyed stare and waited for the outburst. His head was throbbing sympathetically along.

"Be that way, Klivian." Wes's voice was tight. "But I am not going to stand idly by and watch your descent into alcohol and drunken actions you regret in the morning. Fianna- and I'm assuming she left- made the whole thing better, but I've seen what you were like before and I see where you are going now. You are slowly destroying yourself, can't you see that?"

Hobbie snorted a little: "You are in no place to argue, Janson. Just remember what you were sometimes like, you know, before you met the love of your life."

His words lacked the venom required for a proper argument and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Hobbie didn't want to argue.

He felt shaken and old and the headache was worse than before, yet he tried his best to hide it, never having been one to give too much away. Wes, however, must have seen it, for his shoulders slumped and his glare softened slightly. He went over to one of the cabinets and withdrew a thick white blanket, putting it carefully around Hobbie's shoulders, and then kept his hands lying there, effectively drawing him into some kind of weird half-hug. Hobbie closed his burning eyes against the warmth of the blanket and Wes's comforting proximity and tried not to cry. He was an experienced fighter pilot. Fighter pilots did not cry. Majors of the New Republic did not cry. But at the moment he felt anything but- no dignified Major, no dashing combat pilot, just plain old Hobbie.

So he sucked in a harsh breath that might have been a sob or maybe not and said shakily:  
"I need to get away from here, Wes. For some time at least."

Wes didn't look surprised. "You are probably right. But where will you go, Hobbs?"

Hobbie tugged the edges of the blanket closer to his body. He sighed and mumbled: "I thought that maybe it was time to go home."

"Home? Back To Ralltiir?"

"Yeah," Hobbie said heavily and his eyes clouded over momentarily as long-lost, almost-forgotten memories of a planet with warm nights and humid summer days assaulted him.

"I'm coming with you." Wes sounded decisive.

"No." Hobbie carefully shrugged out of Wes's hold and walked over to the window again, putting his forehead against the cool transparisteel pane and exhaling slowly. "I need to do this alone."

"Are you sure?" Wes seemed uneasy, shifting from one leg to the other, sometimes clearing his throat quietly and dragging a nervous hand through his dark hair. His behavior screamed of him thinking that it would be a horrible idea to let his wingman do this alone.

"I can look after myself. I am going to be careful, Wes," Hobbie said finally, having got a tenuous hold of his composure again.

"Be careful? You are the pessimist, Hobbie," Wes pointed out.

"Yes, but expecting something bad to happen does not automatically mean it will, you know."

Wes didn't look convinced. "Right," he said finally doubtfully, rolling his shoulders. "But stay in touch, alright?" Hobbie nearly smiled at that. "Alright,Wes. You don't have to fuss."

"Sure," was the simple reply, yet the doubtful look in his eyes remained. It was still there when he, sometime later, eventually turned to go. At the door he turned back: "You'll swing by to say good-bye, won't you?"

"Yes, Wes." Hobbie had the absurd urge to laugh, although he appreciated Wes's concern. "I will."

"Alright." Wes nodded and went off.

When the door had closed, Hobbie sank down to sit on the edge of his bed. He covered his face with his hands, then exhaled deeply and got up to start looking for his datapad, mentally already drafting the message to Tycho asking for some days of leave.

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tbc


	3. Chapter 2

_Hi everyone! Thank you, **Olen jedi ikuisesti**, for the wonderful review! Everyone who reads this- I am always really happy about reviews. They make my day :) Hope you like this update!_

_-Sachita_

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**Chapter 2**

Ralltiir had changed in the years since Hobbie had not been there. New buildings had popped up all over Cambrielle, the capital of Ralltiir, while old ones had gone- some leaving only rubble in their wake. Hobbie was surprised and devastated at the destruction that Lord Tion's brief reign over Ralltiir had brought even from the insufficient perspective he had from out of the windows of his X-wing. He got landing permission nearly instantly. He'd travelled in his X-wing since he hadn't brought many things with him and as such its cargo space had sufficed.

Once he had shut the engines down and completed the landing procedure, Hobbie stayed in his X-wing for some time. He was staring at his black-gloved-hands, yet he didn't really see them. His astromech, Crash IV, beeped a question. The sound shook Hobbie out of his stupor. He regarded the small screen and read the question with a faint smile.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied eventually. "Thank you for your concern, Crash, but I am alright. It's just…" he searched for the right words. "Odd," he whispered finally. "Very odd indeed to be back here. I mean- what am I even doing here?" He finally got rid of the gloves and folded them neatly in order to put them in a small compartment behind him. He took his helmet down, too, yet merely put it in his lap. He'd take that one with him.

"Am I trying to find my peace of mind?" Crash beeped quizzically. Hobbie snorted. "Right, right. I suppose I never had a mindset that could be called peace of mind anyway." He finally pushed the button that opened the canopy and swung his legs out of the cockpit, stretching a little to get rid of the kinks. "I mean," he continued his musings even as he exited the cockpit via the ladder that had swung out mechanically as his canopy had opened, "in order to have survived so long in the kind of life we lead one has to be either suicidal or not sane to begin with. I strongly favor the latter option."

He retrieved a small key from his pocket and unlocked the mechanism that closed the canopy and withdrew the ladder. It was an inconspicuous lock, designed especially that way so that only people who knew where to look found it. And even if unauthorized people should fumble around at the lock, they'd need a key and a key was only distributed to the pilots or the technicians.

Hobbie gave Crash a quizzical look when he was finished. "Crash- you going to be alright here on your own? I know you wanted to perform some repairs."

Crash beeped in mild annoyance and Hobbie looked at his datapad to see what he was saying. "THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONCERN; BUT AS YOU SAID SOME MINOR REPAIRS HAVE TO BE PERFORMED THANKS TO SOME OF YOUR MOST RECENT FLYING MANOEUVRES. YOU SHOULD REALLY LEARN HOW TO FLY BACTA-FREE."

Hobbie gave Crash a stare that clearly said "not amused". Crash just tweeted happily. "Did Gate tell you that?" Hobbie asked pointedly, thinking of Wedge's loquacious astromech.

"HE MIGHT HAVE MENTIONED SOMETHING TO THAT EFFECT; BUT I BELIEVE HE MERELY REPEATED GENERAL ANTILLES' WORDS."

Hobbie huffed, but a reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"It's not like I plan to land in bacta on a regular basis, Crash."

"YES I AM AWARE OF THAT. I WOULD BE DISPLEASED IF IT WERE OTHERWISE; SEEING THAT I SEEM TO END UP BEING IN DIRE NEED OF REPAIRS AROUND THE SAME TIME AS YOU ARE IN NEED OF THAT BACTA."  
Hobbie chuckled ruefully. "We are a pair, aren't we Crash?"

Crash whistled. A green light flashed briefly on top of his silver dome head, a sure sign for amusement that Hobbie had learned to watch out for. "INDEED. BE BACTA-FREE; MASTER KLIVIAN."

Hobbie shook his head, realizing that he was being sent off rather unceremoniously by his astromech out of all things. "Bye, Crash. See you soon."

After having dealt with the hangar master and Cambrielle's arrivals desk, the first thing Hobbie did when he arrived on Cambrielle's busy streets was to find a hotel to stay. He knew a quiet, yet nicely-decorated hotel not far away from the space hangars. It was run by a family of Ithorians, who asked no questions as long as you were able to pay. Hobbie frowned when he arrived at the hotel. The area in general around the hotel seemed to have taken a turn for the worse- in earlier times it had been a well-situated living quarter. Now piles of rubbish were lying around; some rabid dogs were squabbling over a bone of some unidentifiable being.

Hobbie shook his head and entered. The hotel lobby was crowded, full of a multitude of species. He even imagined seeing a Tarro, whose species had become nearly extinct after the explosion of their sun. It was certainly an illustrious gathering. Hobbie got a room easily enough nonetheless and only when he arrived there he allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

He changed into some ordinary Ralltiirian-style everyday clothes- a loose white tunic that nearly reached to his knees, loose-fitting coarsely-woven dark trousers and a pair of leather boots. Of course he also wore an intricately-woven belt, as it was most important amongst his people to wear a belt. It was a sign that you were confident in yourself and your abilities. Not to wear a belt was bound to get you more than a few strange looks or even worse things, at least amongst the more traditionally-minded Ralltiirians. The ones who worked galaxy-wide tended to think a little more outerplanetary and wore the current galactic fashion. Hobbie didn't mind the belt though- he had grown up in a traditional home and as such the belt was almost second nature to him.

After a brief trip to the refresher, he went to leave the hotel. He headed deeper into the city and was shocked at how much had changed. Tion's reign, brief as it might have been, had brought so much destruction. Ralltiir had been a clean, very well-kept, nearly perfectionist world regarding cleanliness and properness and Cambrielle had been the planet's gem in that aspect, full of tall transparisteel buildings and glass spires that made for a majestic and magnificent overall impression. Of course with that a slight over-exaggeration had come, too, but Ralltiir had always prided itself on keeping a spotless appearance. Of course it was required to do so, being the galaxy's finance center. Hobbie had grown up amongst bank and other fiscal employees- when he had first come to another planet, he had been both fascinated and repulsed by the fact that there were no divisions of impeccably-clad businessmen and –women, like in Cambrielle. That had changed, too. Although Ralltiir had been the first planet to be liberated from the Empire's stronghold by the New Republic and Lord Tion's terror reign had ended some years before, Ralltiir's road to recovery was long and tedious.

It showed on the faces of his compatriots, too, gone was the stiffness and perfection making way for exhaustion and worry lines on many of the faces that passed him by on the street. Still one thing was constant- the speeder traffic was as busy as it had always been. Hobbie lifted his head to the sky and allowed himself a brief moment of soaking the atmosphere up- being here, listening to the familiar sounds and accents, the smells and fragrances- even the taste of the wind- it all brought Hobbie back to a time when he hadn't been the battle-hardened military man. It allowed the blood of the long years to disappear, got rid of the faces of his dead foes, wiped the kill marks from his X-wing. Something about the air made it possible for Hobbie to be just Derek for a while, lying in a field dotted with red flowers and dreaming about being a pilot while chasing white clouds with his eyes.

The smell of tobacco made him come back to the present quickly. It was a very special sort of tobacco, Hobbie knew it for his father had liked to use it. His father…Ralltiir might have been his home, but the old man had done a lot to make him flee the planet and to the Imperial Academy, where he had thought to find glory, fulfillment and the option to fly the fastest starfighters this galaxy had produced. He had neither found glory, nor fulfillment- instead he had only found death and blood and destruction. Moving on to the Rebel Alliance had certainly been the right choice and one that he would make again and again if asked, but the death and blood had continued to be his constant partner. Hobbie nearly gagged as the stench of the tobacco vapor hit him again with full force and walked on quickly.

* * *

After long, aimless wandering through the city of his childhood, he finally found one of the tapcafes he had used to hang out in as a youth as early dawn fell over Cambrielle. It was a nice tapcaf, filled with picturesque takes of Ralltiir's many wonders and was always well-frequented. Hobbie settled down at the bar and ordered Ralltiirian wine. He savored the bitterness of the drink, then, when his eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the tapcaf, he chanced a careful look around.

There were quite a lot of other patrons in the bar, but only two of them caught his eye.

The old man and the old woman sitting in the corner of the small restaurant seemed to be completely at peace with themselves and their surroundings. The old man was nursing a drink, while the bent old woman was embroidering a pillow, as relaxed as if she was sitting at home, her gnarled fingers flying over her work. She was completely immersed and Hobbie watched, mesmerized, how she made a little annoyed sound at a mistake she had made and went on to rectify that mistake, her white bun shaking along with her head from one side to the other as she did so. He couldn't have even said why he stared at the old couple, but a sharp ache in his chest made him do so. It got stronger the longer he looked at them and after a while he recognized it as longing, for what or whom he couldn't have said.

This place, these people- the old woman in the traditional austere Ralltiirian garb- the smell, the hard accent permeating the Basic spoken here- a remnant from an original language that few people nowadays spoke- and even the street names made the ache in his chest grow the longer time he spent here.

Years ago, when he had first left Ralltiir for the Academy, never looking back, he had been so eager to get out of here that he had nearly forgotten about the large chunk of Ralltiir that he carried with him wherever he went. He had heard a hardened space-pirate- he had been from Corulag- refer to his home world with a small smile of wistfulness and a touch of homesickness, even as the man said in the same breath that he didn't want to go back there.

He supposed it was something that never left you- after all, this place had shaped him, had made him partly into who and what he was. Ralltiir's blue summer skies had first been what had made him ask his Mother why humans weren't able to fly without the help of machines and when she had explained it to him, he had decided that it didn't matter- he was going to fly, even if it was with the help of machines.

Ralltiir had also earned him the nickname "Hobbie", although the reason for his nickname was a jealously-guarded secret. After all, he wasn't about to tell Wes that he had earned the nickname not due to adventures with girls like many seemed to believe but due to an unfortunate leg injury that had him hobbling around with crutches for a while. The wound hadn't responded well to Bacta- the One Bee responsible for his treatment had looked perplexed yet he had given him the crutches instead, telling little Derek that it was an ancient form of treatment. His older sister had laughed upon seeing him for the first time, calling amusedly: "Look who comes hobbling! Quicker, quicker little Hobbie!" Hobbie had given her a glare to which she had responded with a good-natured of her own. And the nickname had stuck.

He smiled a bit at the memory, wistfully swirling the contents of his shot of Whyren's Reserve.

"Greetings, young man!"

That had him turn around quickly to see who had spoken. It had been the old woman from the table in the corner.

"Greetings, Manda," he replied respectfully, remembering his manners and using the honorary title for the elderly on Ralltiir. The Ralltiirians were widely known in the universe as being polite, sometimes overly so, and Hobbie took pride in holding that tradition up- yet another piece of his homeworld that accompanied him wherever he went.

"May I ask you to step closer, young man?"

"Certainly, Manda," Hobbie replied, getting up from his chair and coming closer, though he wondered what this was all about.

"It is you! Now I see it!" She clapped her hands on her mouth. "Oh by the stars- you have the eyes of your Mother, yet the bearing of your father! Forgive an old woman for not recognizing you immediately, young Derek!"  
"Manda? Do we know each other?" he asked, puzzled. He couldn't remember ever having seen her before, yet he knew that much of his childhood and early years had disappeared in the deepest recesses of his mind. Much of it wasn't very pleasant- particularly memories of his father- and so he rarely thought about his childhood and youth, not even about the happy times.

"Of course, of course, forgive an old woman. You were still a young boy when Jon," and she patted the hand of the old man next to her, who offered a brief nod to Hobbie before turning his attention to his drink again, "and I moved away. We used to live next door to you, Derek."

Hobbie frowned. He motioned to a chair. "May I?"

The old woman smiled. "By all means," she said, then exclaimed: "Oh it is such a joy to see you again, Derek, is it not, Jon?" The old man nodded.

Suddenly he had it. It was all hazy, yet he could remember an aged face with a warm smile holding out a plate with steaming goodies on it- "Do you want one, young one?" He had smiled widely, taking her up on the offer every time. _Cheroughs. _That had been how she had used to call the goodies- as far as Hobbie recalled they had consisted of sweet dough and cherries. He had taken the _cherough_ and had nearly been on his merry way, when the arm of his Mother caught him. "Say thank you," she had hissed quietly. He had turned around, beaming: "Thank you, Manda." The old Lady had just offered him a warm smile, fondly shaking her head as he skipped along the street in the warm sunshine…Hobbie bit his lip. It hurt to remember such things, especially knowing what had come afterwards- that was why he avoided doing so.

"I'm sorry, Manda," he said finally, once he had realized that she had obviously been unsuccessfully trying to catch his attention. "I was lost in thought. Of course I recognise you, Manda Saris."

"It has been a long time, I don't blame you for not remembering immediately, Derek," she smiled and patted his hand. He held a wince back and fought the temptation to withdraw his hand, never having been a fan of being touched. The years had added a fair deal of paranoia and twitchiness to it- kind touches had been few and in-between over the years. Being touched by Imperials or other foes in any way usually meant a longer stay in the bacta tank.

"So, tell me- how have you been, Derek? What are you doing now?"

"I have been good," Hobbie said simply. Lying had always come so easy to him, something that worried him on occasions, yet was very useful on others.

"I am working for the New Republic, Manda."

He shied away from telling her that he was a pilot, somehow wanting her to remember him as the carefree neighbour boy he had once been. He knew that it was silly and futile- yet he wanted someone to preserve the Hobbie Klivian age nine, who had earned his nickname due to an unfortunate accident while trying to retrieve their super-bouncy smashball from a roof along with his best friend Janne. The Hobbie Klivian, who ran home crying with a black eye and a split lip to his Mother, who could fix everything with just a warm hug. And finally the Hobbie Klivian who could spend hours in the meadows outside Cambrielle, staring at the clouds and making out the shapes of speeders and skyscrapers while telling his younger sister all about his pilot aspirations. Tanina had listened in awe, hero-worship clear in her eyes. Ah…Tanina. Rhana. His sisters. He shook his head slightly, willing the thought away.

"Oh Derek," Manda Saris gushed, "Your Mother would have been so very proud of you. Working for the democratic government of the galaxy- she would have loved that."

He suppressed another wince. "I wouldn't know," he said shortly, not wishing to offend the old woman yet not wishing to talk about his Mother either.

Ignoring his discomfort or maybe oblivious to it in spite of the warning glance from her husband Jon who was obviously more observant than he seemed to be, Manda Saris went on: "No, she would have. I am sorry- I know that you have lost her so very early." She gave him a warm look. Hobbie shuddered. He had not been on the receiving end of so much almost grandmotherly or even motherly kindness for nearly his whole lifetime- ever since his own Mother had died. His friends, as much as they were the closest thing to a family he had, were no substitute for this. Nothing was. Suddenly he missed his Mother with a ferocity that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed. Shuddering inwardly, he avoided Manda Saris' look.

After a short silence, he looked up again. Manda Saris' compassionate look had not faded. "She was always supportive of democratic movements- odd that she was married to an Imperial official in that respect. We knew her as a young girl, didn't we, Jon?" The old man-Jon- didn't only nod this time. "That we did." His voice was gruff, rough from lack of use, but his dark eyes were alert and lively. "I can still see that little dark-haired girl, skipping along the street, holding a bunch of freshly-picked flowers in her small hand." He coughed and fell silent, looking sad.

"My husband and I never had children of our own, you see, and your mother used to refer to us as "Grandma and Grandpa" due to our age," Manda Saris explained haltingly and her husband covered her hand. The two shared a loving smile.

"I am sorry," Hobbie said finally after having listened closely, "but how could you have been old when my mother was a child? When_**I**_ was a boy you were-"

"Old?" Manda Saris finished for him. "I guess we are, Derek. We are members of a genetically-altered group of humans. We were around long before the fall of the Old Republic." Hobbie sharply inhaled. There was a lot of weirdness in the galaxy and there were some humanoid species whose life span was several hundred years or more, yet the genetic alteration of human DNA had only been successfully conducted on adult humans a few times.

Hobbie knew that it was possible to alter the DNA of human infants still in their Mothers' bellies quite easily. Altering the DNA of adult humans was much more complicated and as far as Hobbie knew, it had often led to the death of the patients, which was why this method of artificially creating a longer lifespan had been forbidden. The Empire had hunted many of those who had been genetically altered as adults down, conducting experiments on them. For Saris and Jon, hiding their genetic alteration must have been a hard fight during the Imperial days.

Manda Saris smiled gently, seeming to guess what he was thinking. "It wasn't easy at times. Your Mother supported us during the days of the Empire. She knew our secret. She was such a lovely young Lady, always lending a helpful hand. One day, Imperial Agents came to our apartment, searching for us. She hid us even then, even going as far as to pressure your father to obtain new identities for us. Being a high-ranking official, he could do that. I assume he never asked her why."

More revelations. Hobbie wasn't sure what he was the most surprised about. "My father did that?" he asked disbelievingly.  
Manda Saris nodded. "He loved your Mother very much, Derek. He was head over heels for her- there was nothing within his power he wouldn't have done for her."

"He loved her?" Hobbie asked doubtfully. He knew he was a cynic- had become even more of a cynic over the years- but he simply could not imagine Joshua Klivian loving anybody. Not even his wife.

But Manda Saris' nod in the half-light of the tapcaf was sincere. "Yes."

Looking away from her, not believing her yet not wanting to tell her so, Hobbie eyed the tabletop that could have used a good cleaning once. Meanwhile, Jon was nudging Saris, pushing something into her hand.

"Derek."

Hobbie looked up.

"I have something for you," Manda Saris said. She seemed nearly reluctant to hand the something over to Hobbie, but did so in the end. "We have been carrying it around for many years, but I think it is only appropriate for you to get it." She pressed something small and metallic in his calloused palm.

Hobbie found it to be a holo. He pressed the button and was looking at a small girl with dark hair and a wide excited smile. The holo was old and showing signs of use. It had been taken on Ralltiir, long ago, yet Hobbie recognized the flowers in the background and even some of the houses. He focused on the girl. Her dark hair reached to her shoulder and it was fastened at one side with a blue slide. Her big grin showed some baby teeth missing, but that did nothing to make the sparkle in her big dark blue eyes- so much like his own- waver. She was dressed in traditional robes- a long red skirt, a yellow sash and an orange-hued top. She could not have been older than nine years by the time the picture had been taken.

"Who is she?" he asked quietly, although deep down he already knew.

"Your Mother as a child. We have had this holo for a long time, but now we want you to have it."

Hobbie tore his eyes away from the girl's –his Mother's – bright smile and stared at her. "Are you sure about this, Manda?"

Manda Saris' eyes shone. "Yes. It is only fitting that you have something to remember her by. She was such a lively beautiful child and she grew up to be a fearless and lovely young woman. You know- no one ever understood why she married your father. Charming Mila Oudrey, they used to say, how can she marry such a strict man like Joshua Klivian? But she never listened to those doubters. She knew why she did it. It was out of love." The old woman took a hitched breath. "I am not saying she was perfect. But she always tried her best. And she had such a big heart- for each and everyone, even after everything that had happened- the early deaths of her parents, Joshua turning out to be a difficult man at times- she still had so much love to give. She used to sit outside and paint- beautiful pictures. Some of them were sold for a lot of money. You surely already knew that though, Derek."

"No," Hobbie replied hoarsely and there was something hard and immobile lodged in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. "No, I didn't know she was a painter. I didn't know any of this."

Manda Saris stared at him intently and Hobbie did his best to hold the intense look of her grey watery eyes. "She loved you children very much, Derek. Each and every one of you. You should know that."

Hobbie gulped. His fingers closed around the small holo disk. "But why did she have to do it then? Why did she have to kill herself?"

He realized how the question had come out and he felt oddly vulnerable. Hobbie had never been someone to reveal much about himself and right know he felt naked, as if he had told her too much. He reacted as he always did to such situations- he fled. He didn't flee in a haste, but tried to save what was left of his dignity by getting up and bowing. "It has been a pleasure to talk to you, Manda Saris, Mandus Jon. And I thank you very much for your generous gift." He held the holo in his hand, clutching it tightly. "Unfortunately I have to depart now. Mahima Taje- I wish you luck on your way and a fresh breeze wherever you go."

Manda Saris didn't seem surprised to see him go, just a bit sad. She replied to the greeting with a formal bow of her own and the answer: "Mahima Taje, young Derek. May there always be wind beneath your wings." Jon bowed at him.

"Wait." Manda Saris held him back and handed him a flimsy. "Please call this number."

Hobbie stared at her. "Whose number is it?"

Manda Saris smiled once more sadly. "You'll know in due time, Derek." He pocketed the flimsy and did not ask more questions. The burn behind his eyes had intensified and all he wanted was to get out of the tapcaf as soon as possible.

Hobbie nodded hastily to Manda Saris, not exactly adhering to protocol, and then exited the bar. Once outside, he broke into a run.

Via the closest speeder transport system, he arrived only half an hour later at a back alley. Having paid the driver, he looked around while his heart was pounding quickly. The area was run-down, shabby. Faded yellow paint peeled off the old houses in huge layers. A few stray dogs ran away once they caught sight of him. Hobbie exhaled shakily. He remembered this alley and he remembered what it had been like in his youth. Here had been his very own kingdom, his home, his sanctuary. Yet the houses had been freshly-painted and there had been the sweet fragrance of red flowers that grew everywhere beside the street in the air. A bakery had been nearby and in the mornings, the smell of fresh bread would waft down the street. Although Hobbie's family home had never been particularly joyous after his Mother's death, the street had remained the same, reminding him of his Mother in a way. She had loved this place.

Hobbie's eyes burned. He ignored the shady forms of some people some way farther down the street. A few rats hushed away from a heap of junk. The smell was terrible. Hobbie finally exhaled shakily and pulled the holo out again to stare at it. The sight of his Mother's bright smile made his already burning eyes brim with tears. He put a hand up to cover them, but the tears wouldn't stop. Giving in finally, he slid down the wall behind him, put his face on his drawn-up knees and sobbed; great gulping sobs that left him breathless for a long time.

* * *

tbc


End file.
